Past Presence
by Stormchilde
Summary: One of Deeks' old cases brings a new enemy for the team.
1. Chapter 1

"What have we got Eric?" asked Sam, striding into the room.

"Murder. A Navy man – that's how the LAPD put it – found down by the docks partially clothed in a uniform. That's all the info we have from them at the moment."

"Crime scene photos?" Callen asked.

"Nothing yet, they said they are having some sort of" he mimed air quotes, "technical difficulties." Eric rolled his eyes and muttered, "Monkeys are still learning to use tools."

"What was that?" Sam asked, grinning.

"Nothing." Eric turned back to the screen, "LAPD has secured the scene and is standing by with our liaison officer until our team gets there.

"Our liaison officer? They found Deeks?" asked Kensi.

"I guess. No one has mentioned replacing him."

"You suppose they dragged him off the beach and he's still wearing his surf gear?" Kensi smiled.

"Isn't that what he always wears?" asked Callen.

_**XxXxXx**_

At the crime scene the team met up with Marty Deeks. To their surprise he was not dressed in his usual beach bum outfit consisting of shorts and sandals.

Kenzie whistled appreciatively, "You clean up niiiccce!"

Deeks frowned, and tugged at the collar of his shirt, "Thanks, I think. I had court this morning. We called you as soon as we found the Navy ID."

"_We_? They wouldn't even let you into the crime scene." G teased the plain clothes LAPD officer who stood outside the yellow tape. "You sure don't liaise very well."

Deeks ignored the barb. "According to the ID found on the body, he was First Class Petty Officer Dwayne Petersen. His throat was slashed. No blood at the scene so he must have been killed somewhere else and then dumped here."

"Not dumped, more like displayed," Sam ducked under the tape, "It looks like he was tortured first." Sam pulled the body forward, "his back is all cut up."

"Fuck." Marty stumbled back with a hand over his mouth.

Sam grinned, "S'matter Deeks?" he rolled the body so the cop could get a better view. "You got a sensitive stomach?"

G poked at the wounds with a gloved finger. "It looks like they used a cheese grater on him."

Gagging, Deeks ran for the edge of the pier.

The three burst into laughter but quieted when Kenzi's phone chirped. "That's weird, it's Hetty."

"You think she knows we're pickin' on her boy?" Sam glanced around, half expecting to see the tiny woman.

Kenzi slid open the phone and held it to her ear. "What's up?"

"Where is Marty?" Hetty asked gravely.

"He's puking up his guts into the harbor." Kensi couldn't hide the laughter in her voice.

"I want you to get him right now and put him into your car, just you and no one else. Nate will meet you at the boathouse."

"Why?" Kensi glanced over at the officer; he was still bent over the rail, retching violently. "What's wrong?"

Hetty's voice was tense; "Do it now, Kenzi." she hung up.

At Sam's quizzical look Kenzi shrugged, "Hetty wants me to take Deeks and meet Nate at the boathouse.

_**XxXxXxX**_

In the car he's shaking and shivering, coming down from an adrenaline high that any base jumper would envy. Deeks won't speak to her and she gives up, he just sits, turned toward the window with his arms wrapped around his chest as though he's afraid he might fly apart.

He's sweating profusely and as she turns up the fan on the air conditioner, the acrid scent broadcasts his fear.

Traffic is light, the morning rush hour has passed for the most part and it worries her that Nate's car is in front of the boat house when they pull up.

Boat house is a misnomer; the building before them has not housed boats in almost a decade. The single story building has been retrofitted, not in a way that is obvious from the outside, and now is a holding area with interrogations rooms and also a small kitchen and a comfortable living room.

"He beat us here, that's not a good sign."

Kensi waits beside the car for Deeks to get out, just as she reaches the end of her patience and is reaching for the door; he slams it open and exits.

Nate meets them at the door, a serious look on his face as Kensi slips past him.

"Hi, Marty." Nate greets the liaison officer casually.

Deeks' punch is lightning fast and Nate goes down, the file he had been holding falls open and the pages scatter on the floor. Deeks nervously moves away as Kensi glares at him, and then she helps the psychologist to his feet.

"Deeks! What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouts.

Deeks paces back and forth, turning as though he wants to come back to them, then changing his mind and heading toward the windows. He moves around the room growing more and more agitated as they watch. He lashes out suddenly, breaking chairs and shattering glass.

"Don't." Nate warns, holding out a hand to keep Kensi from going to the distraught officer. "Give him a few minutes to work it off."

Kensi can't watch as Deeks burns off the fear and rage by destroying the furniture, so she busies herself helping Nate recover the scattered file, stopping when she comes across the photos of a bloodied back, covered in wide cuts.

"How did you get these? Eric said he didn't have any photos from the scene." Another glossy shows the chest and face spattered with blood. "Oh my God." she gasps, "Is this…"

"Marty? Yes."

"Jesus Christ." Kenzi winces as another window shatters. "Is this why Hetty called me to bring him here?"

"When she heard about the shape the body was in, she knew Marty would react violently. If G or Sam had tried to bring him in, he would have fought them. It was safer for you to do it, Marty wouldn't attack a woman."

Marty was slowing in his path of destruction; he finally collapsed to his knees, panting.

Nate nodded, "Would you mind?"

Kenzi swallowed hard, "Are you sure?"

"He won't hurt you."

Kensi's eyebrow lifted, "He slugged you."

Nate rubbed at his chin, "He saw me as a threat."

"Thanks for the backhanded compliment."

"He's just reacting to memory. I promise he won't hit you."

"Okay."

Kenzi carefully approached Marty, keeping in his line of sight so that he would not be surprised.

"Deeks? You okay?"

He gave a painful laugh, "Got any Band-Aids?" He held out his hands, his knuckles were covered in cuts and blood.

"Sure, I think there are some in the cabinet."

Nate handed over the first aid kit from the kitchen and Marty looked ashamed.

"Sorry about slugging you, Doc." Deeks apologized, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

"I've already forgotten about it." said Nate, then winced, "Almost."

Kensi opened the kit, took out some antiseptic wipes and began to clean Deeks' hands, and it's his turn to wince as the moist squares sting the cuts.

"You know Hetty is going to take this out of your pay, right?" she teased him.

Deeks groaned lightly, "What pay?"

When she finished bandaging his hands they got to work setting things to right. Most of the damage can be repaired quickly – replacing two deck chairs and five windows.

Nate swept up the last of the broken glass and dumped it in the trash just as Kensi and Deeks put the remaining chairs back around the coffee table.

"You want to tell us what that was all about?" Kensi asked as they settled down to rest.

"Not really," Deeks leaned his head back and scrubbed his hands across his face, "but I guess I have to since it looks like this new case is somehow related to one I worked a couple of years ago."


	2. Chapter 2

In the car he's shaking and shivering, coming down from an adrenaline high that any base jumper would envy. Deeks won't speak to her and she gives up, he just sits, turned toward the window with his arms wrapped around his chest as though he's afraid he might fly apart.

He's sweating profusely and as she turns up the fan on the air conditioner, the acrid scent broadcasts his fear.

Traffic is light, the morning rush hour has passed for the most part and it worries her that Nate's car is in front of the boat house when they pull up.

Boat house is a misnomer; the building before them has not housed boats in almost a decade. The single story building has been retrofitted, not in a way that is obvious from the outside, and now is a holding area with interrogations rooms and also a small kitchen and a comfortable living room.

"He beat us here, that's not a good sign."

Kensi waits beside the car for Deeks to get out, just as she reaches the end of her patience and is reaching for the door; he slams it open and exits.

Nate meets them at the door, a serious look on his face as Kensi slips past him.

"Hi, Marty." Nate greets the liaison officer casually.

Deeks' punch is lightning fast and Nate goes down, the file he had been holding falls open and the pages scatter on the floor. Deeks nervously moves away as Kensi glares at him, and then she helps the psychologist to his feet.

"Deeks! What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouts.

Deeks paces back and forth, turning as though he wants to come back to them, then changing his mind and heading toward the windows. He moves around the room growing more and more agitated as they watch. He lashes out suddenly, breaking chairs and shattering glass.

"Don't." Nate warns, holding out a hand to keep Kensi from going to the distraught officer. "Give him a few minutes to work it off."

Kensi can't watch as Deeks burns off the fear and rage by destroying the furniture, so she busies herself helping Nate recover the scattered file, stopping when she comes across the photos of a bloodied back, covered in wide cuts.

"How did you get these? Eric said he didn't have any photos from the scene." Another glossy shows the chest and face spattered with blood, one eye swollen closed. "Oh my God." she gasps, "Is this…"

"Marty? Yes."

"Jesus Christ." Kenzi winced as another window shattered. "Is this why Hetty called me to bring him here?"

"When she heard about the shape the body was in, she knew Marty would react violently. If G or Sam had tried to bring him in, he would have fought them. It was safer for you to do it, Marty wouldn't attack a woman."

Marty was slowing in his path of destruction; he finally collapsed to his knees, panting.

Nate nodded toward the detective, "Would you mind?"

Kenzi swallowed hard, "Are you sure?"

"He won't hurt you."

Kensi's eyebrow lifted, "He slugged you."

Nate rubbed at his chin, "He saw me as a threat."

"Thanks for the backhanded compliment."

"He's just reacting to memory. I promise he won't hit you."

"Okay."

Kenzi carefully approached Marty, keeping in his line of sight so that he would not be surprised.

"Deeks? You okay?"

He gave a painful laugh, "Got any Band-Aids?" He held out his hands, his knuckles were covered in cuts and blood.

"Sure, I think there are some in the cabinet."

Nate handed over the first aid kit from the kitchen and Marty looked ashamed.

"Sorry about slugging you, Doc." Deeks apologized, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

"I've already forgotten about it." said Nate, then winced, "Almost."

Kensi opened the kit, took out some antiseptic wipes and began to clean Deeks' hands, and it's his turn to wince as the moist squares sting the cuts.

"You know Hetty is going to take this out of your pay, right?" she teased him.

Deeks groaned lightly, "What pay?"

When she finished bandaging his hands they got to work setting things to right. Most of the damage can be repaired quickly – replacing two deck chairs and five windows.

Nate swept up the last of the broken glass and dumped it in the trash just as Kensi and Deeks put the remaining chairs back around the coffee table.

"You want to tell us what that was all about?" Kensi asked as they settled down to rest.

"Not really," Deeks leaned his head back and scrubbed his hands across his face, "but I guess I have to since it looks like this new case is somehow related to one I worked a couple of years ago."


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken Marty and his partner Laura Wright the better part of eight weeks to get close to Damon Sharpe – one of the biggest drug dealers on the west coast.

Marty had been undercover in LA for more than three months, posing as a surf bum named Zack Donavan, Laura was his girlfriend Amanda Culver. Together they had set up more than eighteen buys of increasing larger amounts of cocaine. Finally, their connection had agreed to introduce them to Damon.

"Don't fuck with this one, man." Serek had warned them in his slow, Jamaican accent. "He is the devil and will not hesitate to punish you so that you will beg for death if you cross him."

They'd already heard the tales of Damon's penchant for flaying alive anyone who crossed him, it didn't matter if it were drugs or a parking space at _The Edge_, a club he owned downtown. The 30 year-old German immigrant with the perfectly capped teeth took pride in showing off the bizarre-shaped, razor-sharp knife he carried with him all the time.

_**XxXxXx**_

The beach was nearly empty this morning, only the surfers were up and about. Zack wished he were out there with them, sitting on his board and waiting for the perfect wave.

He choked back a laugh, remembering the hell he'd given Amanda this morning about her choice of footwear for this meeting – she'd insisted on wearing heels.

"You're never gonna make it across that sand in those things." he mocked her.

"You watch me little man. Damon will be so busy looking at me that he won't even notice you."

"Yeah, he's gonna be laughing at you."

Amanda swatted him and he yelped. "Let's go, we don't want to be late."

Damon was walking toward them, flanked by two muscle bound body guards. The dealer did seem to have his eyes glued to Amanda and Zack could understand why. The heels made her three inches taller than her barefoot five feet, five inches and she had no trouble at all keeping a seductive strut across the sand. The champagne colored mini dress perfectly accented her long, blond curly hair. If he weren't painfully familiar with how hard she could punch, Zack would certainly have been drooling.

"That's close enough," Damon said and they stopped with a space of about five feet between them. "New bodyguards," he explained, "they can be a little over zealous."

Damon glanced at Zack then looked Amanda slowly up and down. "Very nice." He smiled, "You must be the money half of this partnership."

"Hey, I'm right here." Zack complained, running a hand through his short blond hair, making it even more unruly.

Damon's pale skin contrasted with jet black hair that curled at his collar and a high widow's peak. His dark eyes are small and close set. Everything about him is sharp - his chin, nose and cheekbones. The Kiton suit he is wearing is a charcoal grey and tailored perfectly to fit his broad shoulders and nearly hide the nine millimeter holstered under his right arm.

His bodyguards are dressed similarly; their matching black Ralph Lauren's fit perfectly and accentuate the large arms and chests of men who are accustomed to using their fists.

One has buzz cut blond hair, the other, brown hair that is receding. Both wear dark Manscott sunglasses.

"Let's get down to business then, shall we," Damon said with an anything but friendly smile, "150 thousand dollars, 7 a.m. tomorrow, basement level of the Beaumont Street parking garage."

"150 K?" Zack asked.

"I wouldn't think that would be a problem for two players such yourselves." his eyes narrowed, "Unless you are cops."

"As you guessed, I am in charge of the money Mr. Sharpe," Amanda said coldly, "and 150 is _not_ a problem."

"Very good."

"Tomorrow then," Amanda slipped her sunglasses back on.

Damon nodded and he and his body guards returned the way they came. Amanda watched them go.

"Creepy." she said, "His whole personality screams _snake_".

"I think he's a poser, I doubt he really moves 3,000 pounds of flake a month."

"I don't think we should underestimate this guy." Amanda slipped off her shoes.

Zack laughed, "Can't keep up the walk in those, can you?"

"These are $700 shoes; I am not taking a chance on scuffing them."

"$700? I didn't pay that much for my entire wardrobe!"

"I am completely aware of that fact."

Zack got behind the wheel of his beloved Barracuda, "Sand." he reminded his partner.

Amanda made certain she removed as much of the sand from her feet as possible before she got in. Her cell phone rang as they pull onto the PCH.

"Yeah?" she is silent for several minutes. "Weird… No... That's what I said… Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Who was that?"

"Brown, he had some info on Damon for me."

"I think he hates me."

She scoffs, "Damon doesn't even know you yet."

"Ha ha, very funny. I was talking about detective Maurice Brown." he drew out the first name, pronouncing it Maaw reese.

"I wonder why."

"I have no idea; I mean I've never done anything to the little nerd."

Amanda rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you're such a wonderful guy I don't know what it is with 89% of the department."

"89%?"

"Yeah, the other 11% haven't met you yet." she teased.

"What did Maurice have to say?"

"Damon has a new set of bodyguards because last week someone shot at Damon from a passing car. They missed Damon but did quite number on his bodyguards."

"I hope he pays them well."

"Only until they outlive their usefulness. Maurice said Damon is refusing to pay for his ex-bodyguards medical bills."

"Bastard. I wonder if they new guys would be so loyal if they knew how he treats his ex-employees. What else did he dig up on out new friend?"

"Damon's mother was a model in Sweden; his father was the CEO of a German electronics firm. Both of them were killed in an accident on the autobahn six years ago. Damon has lived in LA for the last five years; he owns three businesses in town including the dance club and has a house in Las Vegas and one here.

"And?"

"No criminal record, not even traffic citations. Though he has been a suspect in six assaults with a deadly weapon and two murders, no charges have ever been filed."

"Witnesses and victims have all mysteriously forgotten or disappeared?"

"You got it." she leaned back, pulled off her sunglasses and put her hand over her eyes.

"Another headache?"

"It will be, I'm just trying to figure out how we're going to get a bust set up with only 24 hours notice."

"I think that's what Sharpe was counting on."


	4. Chapter 4

Zack took off to surf for a few hours while Amanda spent the time on her phone calling the various departments she needed assistance from in order to bust Damon Sharpe.

Everyone wanted something. Their commander wanted a complete report including detailed expenses immediately, Vice wanted the praise for the collar, and SWAT wanted a different location. Like any of that was going to happen.

What she did get settled was that she and Zack would be wired, backup would be waiting outside on the street and no one would move in until after the transaction was completed.

Sometimes she hated dealing with the suits; they didn't understand what it took to cozy up to the slimeballs they arrested. The unwillingness to co-operate grated on her nerves; couldn't they put aside petty jealousy and do the job? From their perspective she could understand that it looked to someone outside that all she and Marty were doing was loafing around on the beach, eating at expensive restaurants and living a life of luxurious clothing and cars.

Sure it was that, but it was also living every second being afraid that someone would sneak up behind her and put a bullet or ten in her brain. It was that image that woke her in the middle of the night lately, kept her distracted during the day.

After this, she promised herself, she was going to take a long vacation somewhere far, far away from L.A. and sand. Maybe visit her sister who taught school in Timothy, Kansas. That was about as far as you could get from the hustle and bustle of California and the ocean.

After a light lunch, she spent the remainder of the afternoon with Zack at a car show downtown. She wasn't terribly interested but it kept him out of trouble for three hours. To make it up to her, he took her to an early dinner at Cicada on Olive Street.

Cicada is an Italian restaurant on the ground floor of the 1928 art deco Oviatt Building. The glass doors of the restaurant are Lalique, carved maple columns soaring two stories to a gold leaf ceiling, and from the mezzanine a glamorous bar overlooks the airy dining room.

Truth be told, he loved to take her there, despite the fact that he had to dress up for dinner. Amanda always drew attention whenever they dined there; she looked like a Hollywood starlet. Tonight her hair was done up in a careful spill that touched her bare shoulders. The simple black dress, high heels and pearls she wore made it easy for him to forget about the tensions of tomorrow.

"Would sir like to see the wine menu?" the waiter asked as they were seated.

"No, thank you. We'd like the Château Mouton Rothschild Pauillac '86."

The waiter nodded, "A fine choice sir." he left to retrieve the wine.

"Zack!" Amanda hissed, "What are you doing? That is a $600 bottle of wine!"

"I know but tonight is our last night together for a while, I want to make the most of it."

"If you think you are going to get me drunk so you can …"

"I'm not thinking nothing like that, you just need to relax." he ended the conversation by holding up his menu and refusing to look at her. "I can't decide between the tuna carpaccio with lemon-ginger sauce, and the lamb chops with rosemary-mirin sauce."

They compromised, she ordered the tuna and he agreed to share his lamb chops.

Amanda did enjoy the wine; she had two glasses to his three.

_**XxXxXx**_

"Relax." Zack insisted as she tossed in bed later that evening.

"I can't."

He sat up and glared at her, "Do it or I give you a deep tissue massage." he flexed his arms, aiming his elbows at her.

She lay still for a moment then flopped face down with an exaggerated sigh.

He laughed, "You are such a slut."

"Can't help it, you have magic hands." she groaned as he settled on her back, his knees on either side of her hips.

"Remember when we were doing that cover at Mar Vista?"

She buried her face in the pillow, laughing. "How could I forget, that FBI dork who was scoping us insisted we really were doing the nasty and he was going to report us to our superior."

"We are fantastic actors."

"We are fantastic partners, that's what makes it so good." she groaned as his fingers found and teased out the knot at the base of her neck.

"Damn, you are really all knotted up." He bounced a little, and then reached for a bottle of tanning oil on the bedside table.

"What was that for?"

"In case anyone is watching, just making it look like we are a happy, healthy couple."

"Do it again."

He complied, bounced a little harder this time and heard her back crack.

"Ahh," she sighed, "was it good for you too?"

"I'll give you good." he poured a little oil on his hands, started at the edge of her panties and smoothed his hands up to her bra. She didn't object when he unclasped it.

He could feel her relaxing as he rubbed circles down the length of her spine, "How's that?"

"Heavenly." she moaned, "I may have to marry you."

"And make me an honest man, I don't think so."

"As if."

He leaned over and kissed her ear.

"Marty." she warned, "we've talked about this."

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying. You are a sexy woman, half naked in my bed."

"It's not _your_ bed, it belongs to the department. Keep it up and you'll be sleeping on the couch."

"We don't have a couch; we have a lumpy monstrosity masquerading as a couch." he grumbled and sat back up and went back to the massage. Ten silent minutes later and she had fallen asleep.

He pulled the sheet up over her and went to take a cold shower.

_**XxXxXx**_

The money, retrieved from a storage building near Pacific Palisades, was the best counterfeit paper seen in the last ten years. It was so close to perfect that even counterfeiters had a hard time spotting the fake. Just to make certain they didn't lose it, Zack slipped a microtransmitter between the bills in one bundle before he stacked it in one of the two steel wheeled cases. When that was done, he stored the cases in the trunk of the barracuda.

One of the perks about still remaining friends with a guy she dated that worked for a tech firm was that he didn't mind 'loaning' her equipment for their covers.

The black pearl earrings that she wore this morning contained a mini camera that wirelessly sent a live video feed to a recorder stashed under the dash of the car. The audio could be difficult if there were too much ambient sound but Alex said they hope to fix that soon.

Zack whistled as she came out of the bathroom. Amanda had chosen a dark blue suit with a butter colored silk shirt. Low heeled calf skin sandals completed the outfit.

She spun, and then stopped, peering back over her shoulder at him. "Pretty?"

"Gorgeous, how can I compete?"

She appraised him, "This morning, you look pretty good."

Zack was wearing pressed tan slacks with a navy button down shirt, open just enough to show off his lucky jade turtle that hung on a black silk thong. The only thing ruining the look were his lime green flip flops.

Amanda shook her head and laughed, "You are NOT wearing those."

"These are my favorite pair of shoes." he said wiggling his toes.

"Those are not shoes; those are an accident waiting to happen."

He kicked the thongs off and they flew across the room. "How about these?" he brought out the low topped, cream colored leather boots he'd been hiding behind his back.

"Where did you get those?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

He aimed for an innocent look but she wasn't buying it. "Nichols on 181st."

"Do they have anything like that style in ladies?"

"Forget it Imelda. This is our last day on this gig, besides your half of the closet won't hold any more shoes."

_**XxXxXx**_

She could tell he was nervous about the deal; he was tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel as he drove.

She didn't like to discuss the details of a bust right before, always thinking that it would somehow jinx them and all the things she imagined could go wrong would.

She reached over and turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until she found a blues song.

He started to relax, moving slightly to the beat of the song and she smiled.

_**XxXxXx**_

A black Cadillac escalade with dark tinted windows was already parked in the garage when they arrived. Zack pulled the barracuda past the SUV, leaving a gap of about 50 feet between the rears of the vehicles.

He and Amanda got out, walked back to the trunk where he settled one hip on the trunk.

After a few minutes, the doors of the escalade opened, Sharpe's bodyguards got out. They did a thorough visual sweep of the garage before the balding one opened the passenger door.

Damon Sharpe looked like a lawyer, ready for court. He wore a grey pinstriped suit, white shirt and a maroon tie. His black half boots were polished to a high gloss.

He moved to the rear of the SUV and nodded to his bodyguards to open the hatch.

Black canvas duffle bags lined the deck; the younger bodyguard reached over, unzipped one of the bags and lifted out a plastic package of white powder.

Zack popped the trunk and pulled out one of the cases, set it on the concrete and nudged it toward the Cadillac. He was just lifting out the other case when the elevator to his right dinged as the car came to a halt.

The clicking of guns sounded as the door opened to reveal a very startled kid in a mall security guard uniform.

Zack spun and launched the case at the bodyguards who were opening fire on the unfortunate kid and the elevator. He didn't have time to see if his diversion had made any difference in the health of the surprise guest, he was too busy shouting at Amanda to take cover as he tumbled toward the cars parked on the other side of the escalade.

"Shitshitshitshit**SHIT**!" he shouted as he popped up to fire at Sharpe's guards. Seeing the SWAT unit and some of the Vice cops running down the ramp into the garage unleashed more curses from him. "FUCKING IDIOTS!"

Gunfire erupted seemingly from every direction and he ducked back down, wondering if their backup had any idea who they were supposed to be shooting at.

Bullets punching through the solid metal of the barracuda's sides made a unique sound.

"GOD DAMMIT! NOT MY FUCKING CAR YOU **ASSHOLES**!"

Flames started licking from the hood of the car and Zack screamed.

"**YOU GOATFUCKING BASTARDS!**"

A blow to the back of his head knocked him to his knees; then a kick that fractured his right cheekbone knocked him unconscious.

The car exploded with a rush of searing heat and crushing sound. In the chaos of the fire, the Cadillac tore out of the garage, tires screeching.

"ZACK! Amanda screamed,

It was suddenly quiet; all she could hear were the police officers swift, hard breaths as they quickly moved forward to search.

"MARTY?"

The kid in the elevator was unscathed except for a dark wet stain on the front of his pants. They found him crouched in the corner by the panel, jabbing repeatedly at the only intact button the 'close door' button. They had to pull him out by force; he whimpered continually as they led him to the exit and a waiting ambulance.

The younger of Sharpe's bodyguards was found facedown about forty feet from the still smoldering barracuda. He had been shot multiple times, including one that had taken off the back of his head.

Laura searched everywhere, under cars, peering into the burning wreckage of the barracuda, even walking up the ramp to the next level and still found no sign of Marty.

One of the patrol officers brought her Marty's necklace. The silk was torn and wet with blood.

"It's Marty's," she said, "where did you find it?"

"Over by the tire tracks where the SUV peeled out."

"They took him," she stumbled back, "I have to find him."

"Detective Wright, we have a scene to process, the commander is going to want…"

"I don't give a fuck what the commander wants right now! Sharpe has my partner and I'm not going to stand around while he kills Marty! Keys!" she held out her hand, demanding the keys to his cruiser.

"Give me your fucking keys NOW!"

He yanked them from his belt and handed them to her, flinching at the rake of her fingernails on his palm.

_**XxXxXx**_

She dumped the patrol car two blocks from the house, left the keys in it.

She took off her sooty, torn clothes, dropped them on the bathroom floor and took a quick shower. When she got out she checked her phone, five missed calls, all from familiar numbers – her commander, her father and brother. She slipped into a cream colored sweat suit and laced her tennis shoes tight. She tied Marty's necklace around her left wrist.

The phone buzzed again and she resisted the urge to fling it at the wall. Number withheld the screen told her.

"What?" she answered irritably.

"Cops." Damon Sharpe hissed, "I never would have suspected, you two have quite the jacket."

"What have you done with him?" she demanded.

""He's here with me, waiting for you."

"What do you want?"

"The same thing. Money."

She laughed, "And you think I can get it _now_?"

Marty screamed and she was shocked silent. She'd never heard any sound so full of pain before in her life.

"Bring. Me. My. Money!" each word was punctuated by the sound of a fist striking flesh.

Sharpe took a deep breath, and in a calm voice gave her an address, a warehouse on the dock.

"Bring me the money, do not bring your cop friends and I will give you back your partner. You have thirty minutes."

Marty screamed again and the connection clicked off.

Laura grabbed her car keys and ran out of the house slamming the door behind her. She peeled out of the parking lot and out onto the PCH ignoring the screeching tires, blaring horns and shouted curses.

She drove to the storage building they'd been to early this morning. It took her ten minutes to pick up two more cases. One, empty, she tossed into the car, the other she filled with more counterfeit cash. This wouldn't stand up to any scrutiny; each bill was an exact duplicate of the other.

There would be hell to pay from her commander when this was over but at this point she didn't give a damn.

Stopped at a red light, she caught a ghostly memory of Marty out of the corner of her eye. On one of the rare occasion they had taken her car, he'd gotten in pretending to have trouble adjusting the seat far back enough to accommodate his five foot, eleven inch frame. He hunched in the seat, eyes even with the lower edge of the window frame.

"Are we on the ground? Is this thing sitting on the ground? I feel like I'm in one of the hamster things. You know, that ball thing that you put them in and they roll around." he teased.

Laura shook her head and tromped the gas as the light turned green.

_**XxXxXx**_

Five minutes out from the dock she called dispatch to request a team, hopefully by the time they arrived everything would be over. She didn't want any mistakes made, like back at the garage.

When she pulled up, the door rolled up and she drove inside, the door closed behind her. She got out and manhandled the cases to the concrete.

Damon Sharpe was standing on the far side of the boat slip, beside him stood his remaining bodyguard. Marty was hanging by his wrists, ziptied to the arm of the winch that was used to swing cargo onto the boats.

The boat in the slip was smaller than the cargo boats; rode much lower than the dock, it was a slim blue cigarette boat, the engines idling.

"Let him go and I'll give you the money." she said, her voice not betraying the fear she felt.

"That didn't take you long, he must mean a great deal to you." Sharpe's hand moved quickly, she saw the flash of steel and Marty screamed.

"Stop it! Leave him alone, I brought you the money!" she rolled the cases to the edge of the slip.

"Drop them into the boat." Sharpe demanded.

Laura tossed the full case in; it thumped on the leather seat, then fell to the deck.

"Let him go and I'll give you the other one." she demanded.

Sharpe cut the plastic loop and Marty fell heavily to the concrete. He looked like hell, his back was bloody ribbons, blood on his face and chest and his right eye was swollen shut.

"Move away from him." she insisted, drawing her gun.

Sharpe and the bodyguard complied, stepping closer to the ladder that led down to the boat. The bodyguard had his gun trained on Laura as they climbed down into the boat.

"Now give me the other case." Sharpe ordered, his hands settling on the throttle.

She tossed the case and it hit the back deck, the latch sprang open.

"Bitch!" Sharpe cursed, pulling his own gun, they opened fire on her and she fired back. The boat engines growled, almost drowning out the sound of gunfire. The bodyguard fell overboard as the boat rose and roared out of the warehouse.

The only sound now was the faint shriek of sirens approaching. Marty climbed to his feet and stumbled to where Laura had fallen. He fell to his knees beside her and lifted her into his lap.

"Laura?" he stroked her cheek and she opened her eyes.

"You look like shit, partner."

"Hey, you don't look like no beauty queen either." he tried to smile.

Blood painted her lips and her breathing sounded thick and wet.

"I found… your lucky necklace." she tried to pull the silk band off but her fingers wouldn't hold on to it.

"You keep it for a little bit, huh?"

"I…" she gasped,

"Shh, don't try to talk. It's going to be alright."

"I have to… to tell you… something."

"No. No it's alright." he could feel her growing cold in his arms. "You can tell me later."

"I want… to stay… with you."

"You're not going anywhere. Hear that?" he raised his head and smiled, "Here comes the cavalry."

A SWAT van crashed through the door, men poured out of it.

"Laura?"

She was limp in his arms, her blue eyes staring at nothing.

Marty screamed as they pulled her away from him.


	5. Chapter 5

"So what do you think that was all about?" Sam asked as he and Callen went back to examining the scene.

"Bad sushi?" Callen joked.

"I don't know, something's wrong."

"Yeah, if his throat was slashed here there'd be more blood."

Sam looked at his partner, "I meant with Deeks."

"You don't think it was just a reaction to seeing a dead body." It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

"No man, that kind of reaction was really strong and Hetty calling to have him taken to the boathouse to meet with Nate… there's gotta be something going on."

"If there's some kind of connection with this case, they'll tell us."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Callen knelt near the street. "I've got drag marks over here."

"Killer parked, dragged the body out and displayed it. He wanted someone to find this guy."

"Why?"

"He wants attention; he's familiar enough with the neighborhood that he knows the body would be found pretty quickly. He also knows it wasn't likely someone would see him setting it up."

The coroner arrived.

"Hey Rose." Callen waved.

The coroner worked quickly, calling her findings out to the two agents who listened carefully.

"COD is exsanguination due to the slashing of the carotid arteries. Killer was several inches taller, right handed and stood behind the victim. No hesitation or tearing, the blade was extremely sharp. Curious."

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"A different knife was used to mutilate the back; it's a pattern I've never seen before. The mutilation was done postmortem. Our killer wanted to sign his masterpiece."

"Can you tell what kind of blade?"

"Not here." she jabbed a probe into the abdomen, "Maybe when I get him back to the lab. Preliminary findings say he was probably killed sometime between 2 and 6 this morning."

"Thanks Rose." Sam nodded, "Will you call us when you find out what kind of knife was used?"

""When? You are optimistic."

"Nope, just confident that you can do it."

Callen dialed Ops, "Eric, what can you tell us about Petersen?"

"He just came back from a six month deployment at sea. His CO said he left base as soon as they got back to the base, he didn't even change clothes. He went to visit his girlfriend, Holly. According to the DMV, her address is 21117 Cypress, apartment 214."

_**XxXxXx**_

Holly Robb lived in a muddy colored apartment building that had been built back in the fifties. The stucco crumbled and the courtyard was bare dirt circling a broken, empty fountain. Her apartment was on the second floor.

The girl who answered their knock was slightly shorter than Sam; she had shoulder length brown hair, brown eyes and was dressed in a blue crop top and white pajama bottoms with blue sheep printed on them. She looked over thirty but she was trying to hard to look younger – the belly shirt showed off a piercing that was just beginning to hide behind a flabby belly.

"What?" she asked, knuckling her eyes.

"We're sorry to wake you," Sam held out his badge, "We're from NCIS and we need to ask you some questions about your boyfriend Dwayne Petersen."

She looked back into the apartment a moment then edged out onto the porch and closed the door quietly behind her, "If he's in trouble for not going back to the base last night, it's not _my_ fault."

"Did you see him last night?" Callen asked.

"Yeah, Dwayne came by last night. He got pissed when he found Raul was here. I tried to tell him nothing was going on; Raul was just helping me practice lines from my acting class. I missed Tuesday because I broke my toe. See?" She held out her right foot, showing off the swollen toe.

"He wouldn't listen, started yelling and screaming. He thinks I'm cheating on him. Mrs. Abrams from downstairs started pounding on her ceiling and I told him to get out before he got me in trouble."

"Do you know where he went?" Callen asked.

"Where he always goes." she frowned, "I ask him if we can go someplace nice, but no," she sighed dramatically, "he always wants to go to O'Malley's."

"Where is that?" Callen asked.

"It's a bar over on Whittier; you can't miss its stupid sign."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"It's a cartoon cat in a top hat."

_**XxXxXx**_

O'Malley's bar is a one story, long wooden building with a sprinkling of windows covered in neon beer signs. A cracked sidewalk sprouting brown weeds and scraps of old newspapers fronted the building. The neon cat winked and tipped his hat. A pink flashing arrow directed customers to _parking in rear_.

A rusty cow bell mounted over the door announced their entrance.

"What can I get for you boys?" asked the bartender, an older woman with thin, lavender hair.

Sam held out his phone, "Do you recognize this guy?"

She nodded, "Dwayne, he's in here pretty often with his girlfriend Holly. She thinks she's going to be an actress but I think she needs to go back to Podunk, Missouri." She laughed, "Sorry, you wanted to know about Dwayne. He was here last night, got a little bit obnoxious so we asked him to leave. Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"He was murdered last night."

"Oh my God." she poured herself a shot of whiskey, gulped it and wiped her mouth on her apron. "That poor boy!"

"What can you tell us about Dwayne last night?" Sam asked.

"He came in mad as a wet hen, sat over there," she pointed to the end of the bar, "near the jukebox. Had a couple of beers and shooters was pretty quite for a few hours, then he got into an argument with my son, Baxter. Max broke it up and told Dwayne we didn't allow that kind of stuff in here and he have to leave."

"What time was that?"

"It was just after 1:30, I know because I had to go take my ativan."

"Any sore feelings between these guys?" Sam asked.

"Baxter went back to feeding quarters into the jukebox; Max went back to the kitchen."

"Where can we find Max and Baxter?"

"Baxter is in the back room sweeping, he's kind of slow, wouldn't hurt a fly. My husband is in the kitchen refilling the pretzel bowls." she turned and cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. "MAX!"

A stoop-shouldered elderly man with rheumy eyes shuffled through swinging doors and halted at the end of the bar and leaned heavily against the cigarette scarred wood.

"Do you know where Dwayne went after you asked him to leave?" Sam asked.

With a shaky hand, Max pointed at the front door, "Left peaceably." he stuttered.

G and Sam left too.

"Well I doubt Max killed him." Sam grinned.

"So he's had a few, where would he go next?"

"It's Friday, he's got leave, not back to the base that's for sure."

They walked around back. A raggedy dressed woman with blond frizzy hair was digging aluminum cans out of the dumpster and dropping them into a battered shopping cart.

"G, you see that?" Sam pointed to the mound of plastic garbage bags at the end opposite the woman, "That could be a navy shirt."

When they got close to the dumpster, the woman stood up and glared at them.

"MINE! You go somewheres else!" she growled, taking a swipe at G with a broken broom handle.

He put up his hands, "We're not trying to steal from you. We'd just like to take a look at that shirt over there." He pointed to the other end of the dumpster.

"Fine. I watch you. You get shirt, I get cans. No tricks or I spear you."

G nodded and Sam pulled on a glove, picked up the shirt. They backed away from the woman and the dumpster. As soon as she was satisfied they weren't coming back, she went back to tossing the cans into the shopping cart.

Sam held the shirt up, it was a navy uniform shirt, and the front of it was stiff with dried blood. Callen got an evidence bag from the car and Sam dropped it in, and then sealed it.

"So he was killed here," G looked around the nearly empty lot, "probably in a vehicle since there isn't any blood."

Sam called back to Ops, "Eric can you pull up any traffic cams from near Whittier Blvd around 1:30 a.m. and compare it to ones from 47?"

"Sure." the tech replied, "What am I looking for?"

"See if there are any similar vehicles."

"That could take a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Hmm. Maybe twenty minutes."

"You're the man, Eric." Sam laughed. "Thanks."

_**XxXxXx**_

Deeks leaned forward, hands on his knees, staring at the wood planks of the floor, "I woke up two days later at Cedars Sinai."

"What about Laura?" Nate asked.

"Two 45 caliber bullets to the chest," his voice was choked, "they said it nicked the artery. She bled out in minutes."

"And you?" the psychologist asked. 

"Two broken ribs, fractured cheekbone and the doctor said after eighty something, he lost count of how many stitches he put in my back. I was in-patient for two weeks. I missed Laura's funeral."

Kensi wanted to touch him, to comfort him but she settled for leaning closer, "So you think this Damon Sharpe is the guy who killed our sailor?"

Marty got up and started pacing, "Sharpe was never seen or heard from after that day. The boat was found drifting, lots of blood in it. The detectives thought he'd fallen overboard like his bodyguard and drowned – case closed."

"Then he could still be alive or this could be some kind of sick copy-cat." said Kensi.

"It's him." Marty said gruffly.

"Do you think he's trying to draw you out?" she asked.

He didn't answer Kensi's question, "He has plenty of reason to be pissed off at me. All of his real estate holdings were auctioned off after he was declared legally dead. Any money he had in his name is gone. His reputation is toast and that is what mattered most to him. He was pretty pissed off that we had conned him, he had us vetted by some strict sources, and he couldn't believe we were cops."

Nate watched Marty carefully, "Do you think he'll come after you?"

Marty stopped at one of the broken windows, staring out, "Look, this has been a shitty morning, would you mind if I went home, showered and took a nap?"

"No problem, I can give you a ride." Kensi got up and stretched.

"I can take a cab." Marty argued, still not looking at either one of them.

"Nope," Kensi insisted, "I can drive you."

"Fine." Marty said sounding resigned.

Nate followed them to the door, "I'll see you back at ops Kensi." He watched them as they got into the car and pulled out onto the road and then opened his phone.

"Sam? I've just had an interesting conversation with Deeks but I think he knows more than he wants to tell me." He quickly explained what Deeks had told them. "Would you talk to him? Kensi is taking him home. Eric can give you the address. Thanks."


	6. Chapter 6

Marty said little once they were in the car, he gave her directions to his apartment and after that he was silent, but his eyes watched every vehicle that came near and he stared at people standing on the streets.

Kensi pulled into the parking lot, at the edge of the pavement were a row of small shops that faced the expanse of the ocean. Marty's apartment was on the second floor, above a deli that advertised _The Best Sub Sandwiches in the State!_

Kensi parked a couple of rows out and sighed.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked as she got out.

"I told you everything." Deeks grumbled, slamming the car door.

Kensi shook her head, "I feel like you're holding back on me."

"You sound like Nate." he headed for his apartment, "thanks for the ride and all, but I'd really like to be alone now."

Bullets spattered the car and the pavement all around them. Kensi drew her gun and stepped away from the car, she had no idea where the shots were coming from.

Marty yelled, dove at her and she slammed into the fender of her car, seeing stars for a moment and losing her gun.

She pressed a hand to the lump that was already forming at the edge of her hairline, blood dripped from her fingers and she glared at the detective. "What the hell was that for?" she demanded.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?' he shouted back at her, "Stay down!" he got up and said in a softer tone, "Please? Please stay down. It's me he wants and he'll kill you to get to me."

Sam's car roared into the lot, Marty saw them and he ran.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" the detective appeared panicked as he looked around. He stared at something across the boulevard then ran for the street. Tires screeched, horns blared as he darted across the lanes.

A sedan clipped him and Deeks spun, stumbled and recovered. He kept running heedless of the cursing drivers swerving to avoid him as he ran against the flow of traffic.

"I'm okay." Kensi shouted, waving at her friends, "Get Deeks!"

Sam gunned the engine and G braced himself as the challenger leaped over the median and across the grass. Vehicles screeched to a halt as the car tore across the lanes. The tires kicked up sod as the car sped along the fence separating traffic on the freeway from the surface street less than fifty feet away.

Marty looked back and saw them coming after him, ran to the fence, kicked off his shoes and climbed the chain link. He threw himself over the top as the car nosed to a stop just inches shy of the barrier.

Sam slammed his hand on the steering wheel, threw the car into reverse and roared back out onto the pavement.

"NO!" Callen shouted as the car accelerated back toward the fence. "Hetty will kill you!"

Sam growled and they both flinched as the fence gave way and the car went airborne off the embankment. Sparks flew as it crashed to the pavement and one of the front tires blew.

Deeks was sprinting, fifty feet ahead of them and heading for a yellow taxi van parked sideways in the street. The passenger window was rolled down and the muzzle of a rifle equipped with a heavy silencer rested on the window frame.

Deeks looked back at the taxi then at the NCIS agents. His expression was one of fear mixed with resolution. He suddenly yanked open the sliding door and then leapt in. The van roared away.

"DAMMIT!" Sam shouted.

G sat with his feet braced against the floor, his hands clawing at the dash, "This is not my fault. I will convince Hetty that this was all _your_ idea and I had nothing to do with it."

Sam turned to his partner and then a smile curled his lips, "You scared, G?"

"Of your insane urge to mimic Mario Andretti?" G glared at him, "Yes!" he got out of the car and looked at the flat tire. "And I am also afraid of what Hetty is going to say about this."

Sam opened the trunk and pulled out the spare, "She won't even know."

Callen's smile was quick and unmerciful, "Right."

While G called Kensi, Sam made short work of changing the tire.

"She's going to meet us back at headquarters." Callen slid his phone back into his pocket and got back in the car.

"I'm telling you, G, Hetty will never know."

Hetty met them at the door; she looked Sam up and down, sniffed and said, "You better have that front tire repaired by this time tomorrow, Mr. Hanna."

Callen raised an eyebrow and smiled at his partner who just shrugged.

"I will, Hetty."

_**XxXxXx**_

"**OUCH**!" Kensi slapped Nate's hand away and continued to clean the cut herself.

"Sorry." he opened the Band-Aid and handed it to her.

"So the guy that was shooting at you was Damon Sharpe, and now Deeks is with him." Sam said.

"I don't understand, why would he just leave with this guy?" Callen asked, "Doesn't Sharpe want to kill Deeks?"

Kensi huffed in exasperation, "Deeks went to Sharpe to protect me. He thinks Sharpe would have killed me to get to him."

Sam threw up his hands, "Well that's just great; we have no idea where to find them now."

"Eric might be able to help us." Kensi suggested.

_**XxXxXx**_

The ops room had never seemed more crowded. Kensi, Sam and Callen hovered over Eric's chair, they were all talking at once and the tension was making them all irritable.

"Are there any vehicles registered to Sharpe?" asked Kensi.

"He's driving a stolen taxi; I doubt he's got a Mercedes stashed in the garage." Callen interrupted, "What about property?"

Eric's fingers were flying over the keyboard as he accessed several different databases at once.

"Can't you find the taxi with traffic cams?" Sam asked. 

"Do you have _any_ idea how many taxi vans there are in LA?" Eric snapped, "I can't exactly scan for one with a sign on it that says _Out of service, bad guy on board_."

"Sorry Eric," Sam apologized, "it's just that I'm out of ideas for how we can find this lunatic."

Eric nodded, "There are no automobiles or property registered in Damon Sharpe's name anywhere in the tri-state area. I'm not finding anything useful on the LAPD servers either."

"You can get into LAPD's servers?" Callen looked impressed.

"As far as anyone is concerned, no, I most defiantly **cannot** get into LAPD files." he closed the screen that had the LAPD logo on it. "Your only option is to go down there and ask some of Deeks' co-workers if they know of anyplace you might locate Sharpe."

Kensi started for the door, swayed and grabbed for the edge of the table.

"You're not going anywhere." Callen insisted, helping her to a chair.

"We'll find him Kensi, I promise." said Sam.

"Alive, Sam."

He nodded, "Alive, Kensi." he wished he could promise her that too.

_**XxXxXx**_

The desk sergeant at Hollywood Division checked their credentials, phoned someone and then buzzed them through the door to the detective division. "Lieutenant Berkshire is waiting on you."

The only man in the squad room was a balding, heavyset man in an ill fitting blue suit. He sat hunched over a desk pilled with haphazard stacks of paper.

Sam got right to the point, "Your NCIS liaison officer Marty Deeks has been kidnapped by a man we suspect of killing a Navy CPO this morning."

"Really," he didn't seem too concerned, "and what's this suspect's name?" he picked up a pencil and peeled a piece of paper from a cube of post-it- notes.

"Damon Sharpe."

He dropped the pencil; "Impossible, he's dead." he picked up his coffee cup and took a drink while he scanned some message on his computer screen.

"I am telling you that Damon Sharpe kidnapped Detective Marty Deeks less than an hour ago." Callen reiterated.

"And I am telling you Damon Sharpe is dead, deceased, no more." the officer repeated in the same monotone. "He isn't running around LA kidnapping people." He leaned back in the creaking chair and put his feet up on the desk, folding his hands over his rounded belly. "Wait a couple of days and Deeks will turn up like the bad penny that he is."

"That's what we're worried about; we'd rather not find him down on the docks in the same shape as that guy this morning." Sam tried to impress on the detective.

He waved a hand as if to say 'whatever'. "I can't help you anyway. Any of _Detective_ Deeks' former undercover cases are sealed for his protection." he sneered at the use of Deeks rank, saying it as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

_**XxXxXx**_

"Well that was a total waste of time." Callen grumbled as he got back in the car, "These guys don't seem to give a damn that one of their own is in danger of being murdered in a grisly manner."

"Assholes." Sam growled as he slammed the door.

An officer stepped off the curb beside their car, pages spilled from his case and he bent to pick them up.

"Don't look at me, just listen." He didn't take his eyes off the papers, "Deeks did a good turn for Sharpe's bodyguards that were shot up; he set them up at a dance club called The Edge down on Sunset. Tell the Chang twins you think Zack Donavan is in trouble and you want to help him." As he shoved the last page in the case and started to walk away, Sam caught a glimpse of the name plate, it said R. Wright.

"They really don't like Deeks do they?" Callen wondered.

"All but one of them apparently."

_**XxXxXx**_

_The Edge _was a large three story design made mostly of glass and steel. Even this early in the day there was a line behind the velvet rope. Colored lights flashed beyond the tinted windows on all three levels and the music was just barley audible on the street.

The beautiful Asian woman at the door pulled aside the rope when they showed her their badges.

Callen whistled as they passed the door and waved his hand, "She was smokin'!"

Sam nodded in agreement; he was already counting the bouncers circulating the room that undulated with dancers. One of the burly men came over.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

"We need to talk to the Chang twins." said Sam.

"Follow me please." he led them up a short flight of stairs and past a collection of small room containing a table and chairs, partitioned with gauzy curtains to a frosted glass door. He tapped three times on the portal, opened it and motioned them to enter.

Callen followed Sam in. The room had steel and glass desks, comfortable pillowed chairs. They were a bit surprised to discover that the Chang twins were two dark skinned men with almond shaped eyes. They were both at least four inches taller than Sam and had the same muscle mass as many of the bouncers they'd seen outside.

"I am Alvin Chang, this is my brother Muhammad."

They could see a slight difference in the features of the brother who had spoken; his twin looked like him but somehow appeared younger.

Sam introduced himself and his partner. "We trying to find a friend of ours, his name is Zack Donavan, we think he's in danger and we want to help him."

"Who gave you the impression that we might be able to tell you where to find this friend of yours?"

"A police officer named Wright."

"Hmm." He carefully looked them over, then said, "Zack's girlfriend Cheryl sure liked collecting purses."

"Her name was Amanda and she liked expensive shoes." Callen corrected.

"True." Alvin nodded.

"Damon Sharpe is alive and he has kidnapped Zack." Sam explained, "We want to find him before something bad happens to Zack."

"Zack helped my brother and me out and we would do anything for him."

"Zack is my best friend!" Muhammad's eyes lit up.

"Sharpe bought a fancy glass house up on San Gabriel Canyon Road for his girlfriend Tia." He gave them the house number, "She left him for a director shortly after that, so I doubt anyone has been up there in at least two years. It's the only place we know that he might have gone."

"Thank you, thank you both." Sam held out his hand to Muhammad who stared at him for a moment then shook the agent's hand with enthusiasm.

"Say to Zack, I greet him!" Muhammad grinned. Alvin put hand on his brother's shoulder and chuckled.

"I will." Sam replied, finally freeing his hand.

"When this is all over maybe Zack will come down here and greet you." Callen said.

"We would both like that very much." said Alvin. "Drinks will be on the house."

"On the house!" Muhammad agreed.

_**XxXxXx**_

"There was something a little off about Muhammad." Callen said as they exited into the sunshine. "Do you think it had anything to do with those bullet scars on the side of his head?"

"Probably suffered some brain damage, I noticed one the back of his head too."

"His brother Alvin is a suspicious kind of guy."

"I think that's what has kept him and his brother and Deeks alive."

"I'll call Kensi and let her know what we found out." he dialed the other agent as Sam headed out onto the boulevard and north to the canyon. He spoke with her for several minutes and closed the phone. "She's going to meet us there."

"Is she feeling up to it?"

"She says yes and Nate agreed that she was fine."

"Okay." the engine roared as Sam pressed the accelerator.


	7. Chapter 7

Several blocks away from Sam's disabled car the van pulled over.

"If you don't do exactly what I say; I'll go back and shoot that pretty little friend of yours in her weird looking eye."

Deeks looked startled and Damon patted the rifle, "Leupold Mark 4 scope on a M89SR, I spared no expense to get to you. Now hand me your gun, two fingers."

Deeks held the gun out, pinched between his finger and thumb, Damon tucked the gun under his shirt. "Throw your cell phone out the window."

"I just got this thing a week ago." Marty complained, taking the phone from the case.

"Then it's still under warranty. Toss it."

The phone sailed out the front passenger window landing on the grass of the curb.

"Good shot but that won't do you any good." He pulled the detective's gun out and shot the phone, shattering it. "No one is going to track you with it." He put the gun back in his waistband and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Now sit down up here and cuff your left hand to the door."

Deeks got up and moved to the front, sat, snapped the cuff on his wrist and then to the door, "You really have a thing for tying me up, don't you?"

Damon's fist smashed into Deeks' mouth so fast the younger man didn't have time to blink.

"Shut up."

The detective settled back in the seat, trying to slow down his breathing, he was feeling light headed and his heart was pounding. He watched the traffic around them, hoping and yet fearing to spot a familiar vehicle.

After a while Sharpe began to smile, and then hum.

"You're in an awfully good mood."

"It's a beautiful day in sunny LA!" Sharpe laughed, "The DJ on WKTC always says that, no matter what the weather is like."

"I don't listen to that techno crap that you _use_ to play in that club you _use_ to own." Marty goaded him.

Sharpe punched him viciously in the side, "Keep it up; I'll just make sure you suffer that much more."

Deeks grunted, spat blood on the console between the seats.

"Too bad about your partner, she was a sexy little bitch and I would have loved to have gotten to _know_ her better."

Sharpe laughed as Deeks thrashed in the seat, trying to reach him.

"I did some research; I found quite a bit about her but nothing on you. What a nice funeral they gave her. Was it because her daddy was the chief of police and her brother the commander at Pacific?"

"Gee, I didn't know you could read."

Sharpe raised his fist, and then put his hand back on the wheel. "You are not going to make me mad enough to kill you. I plan on letting you live long enough to regret every moment of your life. Where I'm taking you, no one knows about, we'll have plenty of time for me to remind you just how much I hate you."

Deeks couldn't help the convulsive shiver that rocked him, he could feel the sensation of the knife slowly flaying strips of skin from his back; hear echoes of Sharpe's laughter as he screamed.

"You remember that, don't you?" Damon asked his voice full of pride. "I didn't recognize you when you showed up with the cops. You look really different when you dress like a grown up. After those other people came and you started throwing up…" he laughed, "I must have made quite an impression on you."

Marty looked out the window and held his breath, he refused to give Sharpe the satisfaction of knowing how completely terrified he was right now. There _had_ to be a way out of this.

And maybe, just maybe, this was it.

"Hey sweetheart," Marty whistled at the leggy blond in the convertible stopped at the light next to them, "call me sometime." he managed to tug his badge off his belt and tossed it out and it landed on the seat beside her.

"That was a stupid move." Damon growled, he hit Marty in the temple with the butt of the pistol and Deeks slumped in the seat. The light changed and Damon stomped on the gas, the van peeled away from the startled woman.

_**XxXxXx**_

"What's up Eric?" asked Sam.

"I've been scanning the police bands for any hits on that taxi. I just picked up a report from a woman who said that while she was stopped at the light at 39th and Imperial a blond man in a taxi van threw an LAPD badge into her car. She said the driver hit the passenger and the van took off north on 39th."

"The address Alvin Chang gave us is north of Imperial; I'd say that's a good sign that Sharpe is headed to the house. Where is Kensi?"

"She's a little closer than you are; ETA is probably half an hour."

G shook his head, "I doubt that."

"Why?" asked Eric.

"Kensi won't be adhering to the speed limit while one of our own is in danger."

"And we aren't either." said Sam, his mouth set in a grim line. He wouldn't admit it, but he thought of the newest addition to the team as something like a little brother, to be protected and encouraged. He admired the way the younger man was headstrong and wouldn't go down without a fight. He'd already been on the receiving end of that tenacity. Sharpe would have his hands full, Marty wouldn't go down easy. He just prayed that they would get there before Sharpe killed him.

As if he could read his partner's thoughts, Callen said, "We'll make it, Sam. And so will Deeks."

_**XxXxXx**_

Sharpe yanked open the passenger door, pulling Marty out. He reached over and opened the cuff attached to the door then snapped the cuff on Deeks' other wrist, cuffing his hands in front of him.

"Move it."

"Yeah, I'm not really in the mood to go inside just now," Deeks shuddered, "I think I'll stay out here and enjoy the fresh air if you don't mind"

"I do mind." He grabbed a handful of Deeks' hair and shoved him toward the house. "Let's go."

The house was three stories, white with a red tiled roof. Floor to ceiling windows made up most of the walls. The door Sharpe pushed him toward was painted red, the glass panes in the shape of a rising sun.

"I had this house built five years ago for my girlfriend Alyssa. I spared no expense, and yet she left it like it was nothing." Damon snarled. He kicked the door and it swung open, slamming against the interior wall and shattering glass onto the marble floor of the entry.

"Get in there!" he shoved Deeks inside and the detective stumbled through the shards of glass. The edges of the glass were sharp as razors; he barely felt them slash his bare feet.

"This was the first room they finished." Damon stood in the center of the living room, staring at the ceiling twenty feet above their heads; it was framed with cedar that gleamed in the light from the solid glass of the two walls.

"It smelled like paint and sawdust and glue. We pulled the plastic off the rugs and piled them in front of the fireplace and made love." He turned, grabbed the chain on Marty's handcuffs and dragged him toward the stairs.

Marty left bloody footprints on the white carpeted steps as they ascended to the second floor.

"This is the master bedroom; we spent a lot of time in here." Damon swept a hand across the top of a hand carved dresser imported from Italy, the figurines that had stood there crashed to the floor, shattering. "She left me for a dickless wannabe producer who swore he could get her into the movies if she'd leave all this and move to Paris with him."

"Yeah, yeah thanks for the tour and the history of your life," Marty grumbled, "can you just kill me now and get it over with 'cause I am seriously tired of listening to you whine."

Sharpe hit him with a right cross that spun Marty into the wall. He leaned there a moment, his head spinning. The chill of the stone wall felt good under his heated skin.

"Oh you are going to die _Zack_, just not yet. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time and I plan to enjoy every minute of it." He pulled a knife from a scabbard at his waist; sunlight glinted off the double edges of the curled blade. He laughed at the expression on the detective's face. "You just keep thinking about this; keep remembering what it felt like to be under my knife. This time there won't be any pretty partner to save you."

Again Sharpe grabbed the handcuffs and pulled his captive to another set of stairs, Marty skidding along behind him leaving streaks of crimson across the marble floor.

The stairs took them up to an open area and Marty realized with a start that they were standing on a small helipad.

"It's an incredible view isn't it?" Sharpe released him and paced around the circumference of the concrete pad. They could see for miles in every direction.

"You don't want to try going down that way." Sharpe said as Marty investigated the edges of the circle.

The only thing between them and drop of several hundred feet to a nest of boulders was a narrow skirt of chain link.

"Get over here." Sharpe commanded, pointing to the faded H painted in the center of the circle.

"Promise you won't hurt her. You won't go anywhere near her or the others." Deeks asked softly as the wind whistled around him. He stared at Sharpe, willing the other man to meet his eyes and not to lie.

"I don't have any reason to go after them; it was only you that I wanted."

"Swear it."

Sharpe stared right back at him, "I swear I won't do any harm to your new friends."

Marty stared up at the sky for several minutes, breathing deep, willing his heart to slow down, his muscles to take him to the center, to his death. He swallowed hard, blinked back the moisture in his eyes that threatened to become tears. The wind billowed his shirt and pants around him as he slowly stepped to the center; it blew his hair across his eyes as the tears fell. He dropped to his knees and Sharpe's fingers twisted in his hair, forcing him forward as the knife shredded away his shirt.


	8. Chapter 8

"Federal agent, drop the knife!" Kensi shouted, she had her Glock aimed to place a bullet right between Sharpe's eyes.

Sharpe pulled Marty to his feet, "Back off or I'll slice his throat."

"He dies, you die." she shifted her aim; "Now drop the knife or I'll drop you."

"You partner up with some cocky little bitches, Zack."

"What can I say; I bring out the best in some people." he shuffled backward as Sharpe pulled on his hair. "Shoot him, Kensi. Kill him."

"I mean it, drop the knife or I'll shoot. At this distance I can't miss." she said stepping further onto the concrete circle.

Sharpe stepped back, dragging Marty with him. He held the knife out and dropped it.

"Now kick it over here." she demanded.

The knife spun across the concrete and Marty shouted as he felt Damon go for the gun tucked under his shirt. The detective clasped his hands together and drove his elbow backward into Sharpe's ribs. The older man staggered back and Marty turned, grabbing Sharpe by the neck and shoving him back toward the safety fence. The chain link held as they fell onto it but the support gave way with a thunderous crack. The two men fell as the chain link snapped free of the anchor, link by link.

Sharpe grabbed for Marty and got a grip on his ankle but the blood from his ribboned feet make his skin slick and the drug dealer's grip slipped and he fell, landing on the boulders far below with a sickening crunch.

"Deeks!" Kensi threw herself down and reached for him, "Come on, give me your hand!"

He laughed, "Kinda hard to, sorry."

Another link popped and he slid down further.

She slithered closer to the edge, managing to slip her fingers under the circle of one of the cuffs.

More links popped free and they both dropped several inches.

"Let go Kensi." he said solemnly.

"No, dammit! Help me help you!" she was angry now, her eyes wide and her hair blowing in the wind that swirled up from the canyon floor. He thought that this must be how the Valkyrie must look when they came to claim the fallen heroes.

But he wasn't a hero.

"Please, Kensi, let me go." He pleaded with her, with his voice and his eyes, "I don't want you to die because of me. Just let me go."

She screamed angrily as more of the fence gave way and he slipped out of her fingers and out of her reach.

All of a sudden Sam was there, pulling her back and into Callen's arms.

"Nobody else is dying here today." Sam insisted, "No one." He reached down and grabbed the chain of the cuffs and pulled Deeks up, they both fell to the concrete and rolled away from the edge.

"Now…" Sam panted as they lay on the warm concrete, "we're even,"

_**XxXxXx**_

Sam picked Marty up and carried him downstairs to the master bathroom, set him on the vanity and glared at the smaller man.

"That was not the smartest move in the playbook," he growled, "I don't wanna see nothing like that from you _**ever**_again, you hear me?"

Marty nodded, stunned by the anger in Sam's voice.

Sam returned the nod and left.

Callen let out his breath nosily, "Wow. You got 'The Playbook Speech', that means he likes you." He turned the water on in the sink, tested it for warmth and he and Kensi helped Marty to put his feet in the basin.

"I'm gonna go find some bandages and maybe a shirt or something for you to wear."

Said Callen, disappearing after Sam.

Kensi gently washed his feet and checked for glass splinters, surprisingly enough, there were none.

"That was a really brave and stupid thing you did today."

He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Don't ever do something like that again." she said.

"Do what?" He couldn't read her expression, "Which something? The kissing thing or the stupid brave thing?"

She didn't answer but ducked out the door and returned with rolls of gauze and a UCLA tee that Callen had found.

Marty slipped out of the torn remainder of his shirt and pulled on the tee shirt while Kensi wrapped the gauze around his feet.

Sam and Callen had returned.

"LAPD has been informed and reminded that this is our case. They are content to let you handle all the paperwork that goes with your side of this case." Callen said.

"Coroner is on the way to pick up the garbage," said Sam, "we are free to go anytime."

Marty stood up gingerly, "Thanks Sam, G. I don't know how you and Kensi found me but I am grateful you showed up when you did."

Sam smiled, "You've got some friends that are looking forward to "greeting" you."

"You talked to Muhammad?" Marty grinned, "How did you know about the twins?"

"A cop by the name of R. Wright let it slip that they might know where we could find Sharpe."

"Rick Wright talked to you?"

"Not exactly, it was more like he was talking and we were supposed to hear him."

Deeks' smile faded, "Oh."

Not liking the sudden tension in the air, Kensi threw her arm around the detective's shoulder, "Come on, let's get out of here. Who wants pizza?"

"Seriously, this time I really do want to go home and sleep." said Marty, limping toward the door.

Callen and Kensi exchanged glances and Sam shrugged.

"Okay, we can drop you off," Sam offered.

"Thanks, but I'd rather ride with Kensi," Marty looked back with a smile, "She doesn't drive like Andretti."

"Ha!" Kensi laughed and pointed at Sam, "He's gotcha there!"

Sam shook his head and gave an embarrassed grin. "Whatever."

_**XxXxXx**_

Kensi pulled up in front of the sandwich shop.

"Curbside service."

"With a smile too." he got out, closed the door and leaned in the window.

"Thanks Kensi. For everything."

"You going to be okay?"

He looked out at the ocean where the gulls were calling, swooping over the waves.

"Yeah." he was silent for several minutes, "Yeah," he smiled sadly, "I think so."

"I'll pick you up in the morning, okay?"

His shoulders slumped, "Debriefing, right? Oh the joy."

"It could be worse."

"Really, how?"

"It will only be Nate and Hetty; you could be getting the evil eye from our director."

He stood up, "Bring coffee."

Kensi smiled, reached over and patted his hand, "I will. You get some sleep, no more running across freeways and climbing fences."

He pulled away reluctantly, "Yeah, see you in the morning."

She watched as he made his way upstairs to his apartment, she didn't drive away until he disappeared up the stairs.

_**XxXxXx**_

On the way to pick up Deeks' at his apartment the next morning, Kensi stopped and bought a box of mixed pastries and two tall cups of coffee. She balanced the cups on the box as she climbed the narrow stairs. His door was closed but not locked, not even latched really; she opened it with the toe of her boot.

His place looked the way she'd expected it to; spare, clean, yet strangely chaotic with color. The two room studio was divided into a bedroom area that was three steps up from the living room/dining area. French doors were open by the bed, the gentle breeze blowing in off the ocean moved the gauze curtains that matched the sapphire sheets on the king size bed.

Small colorful area rugs were scattered across the wooden floor like discarded gemstones.

She stood still, watching silently as the rising sun touched his bare back and she could see the faint scars that trailed from his shoulders down in precise lines to his waist.

"I'm an unpaid spokesman for the scar cream industry." Marty said, his voice muffled a little by one of the many colorful pillows tumbled on the bed.

Kensi shook herself, "I brought coffee and donuts."

Marty threw off the sheet and got up, keeping his back to her, limped across the room and pulled on the slacks he'd tossed over the back of the chair last night.

She felt her face burn with a blush as she looked quickly away from the sight of his naked ass.

"I hope there's a bagel in there somewhere." he grinned, sensing her discomfort. "I'm not fond of donuts anymore."

"Yeah, there's two." she set the box and cups on the small table. "You really should lock your door."

"Can't." He pulled the lid off one of the cups and sniffed, then sighed happily, "someone stole it."

That drew her eyes back to him and he cocked his head, enjoying the shocked look she sent his way.

"Seriously, I had a real nice Schlagel installed the first week I moved in, got back one night and it was gone."

She laughed and took a seat across from him. "Someone stole the lock." she shook her head and helped herself to a donut with thick frosting and sprinkles.

"Yep." he sat down and rummaged in the box until he found a bagel, glared at the frosting that had dripped on it and wiped it off with a finger. "Weird thing was, that was the only thing they took." He used the frosting covered finger to stir his coffee.

She laughed and he shrugged.

"Hey, it's still sugar."

Kensi took a drink of her coffee and sighed, "So, where do we go from here?"

"To ops to meet with Hetty and Nate?" he grinned.

"You know what I mean." she set her cup down and stared out the window.

"Yeah, I do. Nothing has changed, we're still gonna work together Ken."

"Don't call me Ken." she mock glared at him, "Partner."

Marty laughed, "You wanna come to a dance club with me tonight?"

"I don't date people I work with." she said seriously.

"Well that's okay," Marty took a bite out of his bagel, "because Sam already said he would."

Kensi laughed, "What?"

"Sam and Callen agreed to go down to The Edge with me tonight. I'm getting together with some old friends."

"The ones who told Sam where we could find you?"

Marty nodded, "The Chang twins. They've offered free drinks, how can you turn that down?"

"I can't. What time should I meet you there?"

"I could always pick you up." he tilted his head looking at her with a charming smile.

"And I can always drive." she countered, taking a bite of her donut.

"Okay," he signed, disappointed, "Seven then."

"That's pretty early for a dance club."

"Yeah, I know but the owner is meeting us there too."

"I thought the twins owned it."

"No, they just manage the club." He took a long drink from his cup, "I think you'll get a kick out of meeting the owner."

"Really, why?"

"You just will, trust me."

**ZzZzZzzzz**

Marty wrote that last paragraph in the last chapter, I don't know if it's the way Eric plays him or the way Marty is written but he is so wonderfully emotional it just makes his 'voice' so much easier to write in a tense scene.

I also have to give credit to Elenna – she hasn't read this yet but she always urged me to write more descriptive scenes in all my other fanfics and now thanks to her and Kellerman I have the guts to go for it!

I'm still using the public library computer for internet, so I only get an hour to update my fanfic, read my e-mail and check the job boards (and when there is something good, apply for it) so I don't have time to reply to everyone as they comment.

**Stranded** – Thanks for reading and taking the time to review, it makes updating easier!

**Lynneanne** – Thanks! I do have a more difficult time with Sam and Callen's 'voices'. Sam was my favorite 'til Deeks came, so I had to put some more Sam in there. Deeks just seems so much easier to hear. The scene dividers have always been a thorn in my side! I'm glad these finally worked! Thanks for all your encouragement!

**Tonnig7** – There will be my Martywhump, I'm trying to cut back on it but hey, he's just so easy to kick around! ;)

**LostForeverInHisEyes** – Thanks for all your encouragement! I always look forward to hearing what you thought of it. ;)

**ShadowWolfDagger** – There is something about Hetty – she just seems to know everything, no matter how you try to hide it ;) Any time I find a Marty fic I SQUEE! I love them so much I even run the non-English ones through bablefish 'cause I just have to feed the addiction!

**Skyler1510** – Thank you for taking to review, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**NcisLAFan** – I love Marty, I always check to see if anyone else has posted something new with him. ;)

**angelprincesslilac** – It's going faster that I expect… most of the time. Your encouragement and helpful hints have been a real inspiration for me, Thanks So Much!

**Anne** – Thank you for your encouragement!

**KP** – I hope I can keep you entertained ;)

**TP96** – Isn't Marty the most huggable?

**cdewinter78** – I hope you'll enjoy the story, thanks for your encouragement!

**Joez** – Squee! I just love Deeks, he's so… soo… squeeable!

**StimorolFusion** – Ya gotta love the Deeks!

**alamodie** – I'm glad you are intrigued! I hope I can keep you interested ;)

**BlueEyes444** – LOL, I hope you recover quickly and will enjoy the rest of the story as much ;) Thanks so much for your encouragement!

**Belladonna L Black** – I love Marty, and I tend to maul the one I love… *evil grin* I'm glad you see 'my Marty' when you watch 'their' Marty! Thank you for your encouragement!

And to everyone who has read it so far and enjoyed it, thanks for encouraging me to write more, you make it easier to sit down and get to it!


	9. Chapter 9

Debriefing didn't take as long, nor was it as painful as Marty expected. Hetty didn't scold him they way Sam had done, but her expression as she looked at him, was in some ways, worse.

They had all been sitting at their desks, filling out the required paperwork when Hetty came downstairs.

"Mr. Deeks." she crooked a finger at him and he glanced at the others as he got up.

Sam was ignoring him, Callen had a _glad it's you and not me _look on his face and Kensi's smile was encouraging. That made his stomach clench.

He felt like he was back in grade school and headed for the principal's office. With his eyes on the floor and his hands in his pockets, he followed Hetty back to an empty office.

She motioned him to a chair and he sat, she remained standing.

"I realize that you are used to working alone, without backup close at hand but I find your actions yesterday quite disturbing."

There was that disappointed gaze. He hated that.

He bit his lip, "I'm sorry Hetty; it's just that I didn't …"

"No Marty, I am sorry." she interrupted. "I'm sorry that you have come to expect this lack of assistance from your associates. I sincerely hope that in time you will realize that you are a valuable member of this team and that that you do not have to do everything alone."

She smiled and reached out; he took her hand and returned the smile.

"A team, huh?" he grinned, shaking her hand, "I think I could get used to that, maybe even like it."

_**XxXxXx**_

The worst part of the entire day was the solitary interview with Nate. The psychologist wanted details and he had a knack for getting Marty to tell him everything, things he had never mentioned to the department shrink and if it came down to it, never would.

"Let's start at the beginning." Nate said as they sat.

_I love my mother and despise my dad_. Marty thought.

"How long were you and Laura partners?"

Marty rubbed his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans and looked around the room, "Four years." his voice was tight.

"That's a long time to stay together."

"Longer than any of my girlfriends," Marty laughed, but it sounded pained.

"Were you undercover that entire time?"

"The first year we didn't do much undercover work, it was mostly street busts. We'd make buys and the unis would bust the dealers. Our first undercover assignment was only three weeks and it was pretty basic. We didn't do anything long term or deep until we'd been together for a little over three years."

"What did you do after she died?"

"I was on medical leave for several months; I stayed with some friends in Malibu."

Nate nodded, looking thoughtful. "Finding out that Damon Sharpe was still alive must have been pretty upsetting for you."

Marty was silent for several minutes, he swallowed hard trying to keep his stomach from rebelling.

"You must have been pretty angry at him." Nate promoted.

"I suppose."

"Why do you think Sharpe killed Petersen?"

Marty got up and started pacing, "He wanted to find me. He killed the first person he could, figuring that I was still a cop and the murder signature would bring me to the scene." his hands fisted as he controlled the urge to hit something.

"What were you thinking when you ran away from the others and got in the van?"

Marty stopped suddenly and glared at Nate, surprised that the psychologist was daring to rebuke him.

Nate coughed a little and shifted in his seat, suddenly remembering that he was alone in a small room with someone who had gone toe to toe with Sam and come out of it with just bruises.

"I meant were you hoping to distract Sharpe?"

"Oh." Marty's eyes darted around the room as he began to pace again, slower now.

"Sharpe… he …" Marty's sudden intake of breath was loud, almost pained.

"I know that if I hadn't gotten him away from there that he would not have hesitated for a minute to kill Kensi, Sam and G. Going with him was the only way I could think of to keep them safe."

"Even though you knew he was going to kill you."

Marty's eyes were wide, pupils pinpoints of black. He turned his back on Nate with a shudder and was silent for a moment.

"Did you have a plan for getting out of there?" Nate asked gently.

"Not really, I was just hoping that I could keep Sharpe talking and …" Marty rubbed at the back of his neck, "you know, delay until I found a way to get away."

Nate could tell that Deeks was getting upset, he need to say something to calm the detective.

"Tossing your badge into that car was brilliant. It gave us a clue where you were headed."

"Sharpe certainly didn't approve," Marty laughed ruefully.

"He's dead now. This time there is no doubt about it, Damon Sharpe won't be coming back ever again."

Marty sighed, dropped back into the chair across from Nate, "I know." He relaxed, head back, arms drooping and feet apart.

Nate smiled; this was what he wanted to see.

"You know that I'm here anytime you need to talk."

"Thanks Nate, I appreciate that. Are we done?"

"Yes." Nate smiled, "Yes, you're free."

_**XxXxXx**_

At 6:45, Marty met Sam and Callen at the door of the club, he told them to go on upstairs to the office and he would wait for Kensi.

She showed up five minutes later in a stunning blue dress. Marty whistled.

"You clean up niiiccce!" he teased her.

She twirled and the short skirt flared, showing off her tanned legs. "Thank you."

Upstairs, the twins were both glad to see Marty and his friends.

Muhammad actually lifted Marty off his feet, holding him up until they were eye level with each other.

"I greet you, Zack!" Muhammad said happily.

Marty ducked his head a little as the larger man drove his forehead against his. It sounded like two rocks smashing together.

Marty laughed as Mohammed set him back on his feet, "And I greet you!" he staggered a little and Sam reached out and steadied him.

"So that's how you greet your buddy, huh?" Sam asked.

"I don't recommend that you try it yet," Marty shook his head, "You might want to start out with something easier, like head butting a Mack truck."

"You are crazy, you know that, right?" Kensi asked.

"That and a little brain damaged." Marty admitted.

The door opened and a diminutive Negro woman entered. "Zachary!" she cried, dashing over and throwing her arms around the detective who bent down to accept her affection.

"Where have you been?" she demanded with her fists on her hips. Her salt and pepper hair was pinned up on the top of her head with ivory sticks; it made her just over four feet tall.

"Sorry, Momma C, I've been busy." he looked contrite.

"Too busy to eat?" she poked at his ribs, "Look at you, you're still too skinny."

"Momma C I'd like you to meet my friends," he introduced the team, "This is Sam, G and Kensi."

Momma C stood in front of Sam and looked up at him with a big smile, "Now you, _you_ look like a boy who listens to his momma."

"I try to Ma'am." he replied politely.

She gave Callen and Kensi searching glances, "I hope that you two will remind my boy that he needs to come home for dinner more often."

Callen grinned at Marty, "Your boy?"

"Of course he's mine," she laughed, "And now you three are too. You all look in need of a little mothering."

"And you're a little mother." Marty teased.

She swatted at him and he yelped and threw up his hands in self defense.

"You had better show up for dinner tomorrow night, young man," she shook her finger at him, "if you know what's good for you."

"I do. The best lasagna this side of the Mississippi."

Alvin took their drink orders and called downstairs, soon a waitress arrived with the drinks and set them on the desk.

Mamma C raised her glass of sherry in a toast, "To good friends."

Alvin held his glass up, "And to new friends."

Sam raised his, "You can never have too many."

"Amen," said Deeks.

Muhammad slammed his glass against theirs, "And pretty new friends too."

"I second that," Kensi laughed.

"And I third that." said Callen with a grin.

"You are our guests for this evening," Alvin announced, "Please enjoy yourselves downstairs."

"Drinks are on the house!" Muhammad proclaimed.

Momma C smiled and patted her son's bulging bicep, her tiny dark hand with shiny, papery skin looked like a delicate butterfly against the background of his lighter skin.

"And you are always on the list, come by and see us as often as you can." she winked.

They stayed at the club for a couple of hours, dancing and talking.

"So that's how you got along with Hetty so well your first meeting?" Callen asked Marty as they settled into one of the small rooms downstairs. "Momma C is a lot like her."

"Yeah," Deeks admitted, "you have to understand the psychology of someone smaller than you."

"I still don't understand you." Sam said with a grin.

Marty gave him a dirty look.

"She is amazing." Kensi sighed, "I would never have guessed that the twins were her sons, they're so … so…"

"So much taller?" Marty finished.

"Yeah."

"Their dad was 6'9"; he played basketball for the Japanese Olympic team in 1973. He died in a plane crash three years after his sons were born."

"Their names are rather … unique too." said Callen, signaling the waitress for a refill.

"She named her sons after the two men she admired most, her dad Alvin and Cassius Clay."

Sam grinned, "The boxer better known as Muhammad Ali."

"She doesn't exactly look like the type to own a dance club." Callen observed, "Is this part of the 'good turn' you did for the twins?"

"Alvin and Muhammad both have records, they couldn't buy the place when it went up for auction but I thought they deserved something from Sharpe, so I may have had a little something to do with their mom having the winning bid." Marty admitted.

Kensi sipped on the colorful drink she held, "She didn't mind buying a dance club?"

"Momma C is a retired fourth grade teacher from Van Nuys, she and I quote, _loves kids_. She likes it too that her sons are running a respectable business, she never did like Sharpe."

"So how did they get mixed up in working for him?" Sam asked.

"They started out working security here, but better pay and fancy clothes made the idea of being his bodyguards seem like a good one at the time."

"Do they know about you?" Kensi asked, "That you're a cop?"

"Muhammad does, but he understands that it's a secret and there's no way he'd ever tell anyone. He's never told Alvin and they don't keep secrets from one another. Sometimes I think Mamma C suspects something, but she's never said anything."

Sam grinned ruefully, "If she has more in common with Hetty than just height, then she _knows_."

"Yeah."

"So how did you become friends with the Changs?" Kensi asked.

Deeks smiled, "That is a long story and someday I may tell you all about it." He got up and held out his hand to Sam, "Wanna dance, big guy?"

Sam choked on his drink.

"Suit yourself, then," he turned to Kensi, "How about you, pretty lady? Dance with me?"

Kensi smiled, set down her drink and accepted Deeks' hand, "Absolutely, partner."

"Partner? She likes me, she really likes me!" Deeks joked, leading her out onto the dance floor.

_**ZzZzZzzzzz**_

Back in 2005 when I was writing _Sins of Commission_, I created three characters I intended to use in another CSI fanfic. The character of Greg outgrew the storyline before I could get around to writing it and the trio stayed locked in the character box until now.

Momma Chang has always been a tiny woman; she is based on the mother of a 6'2" football/basketball player I dated in high school.

Alvin and Mohammed are named after Christopher Moore's characters of the same names in the book _A Dirty Job_, except that mine are human and Chris' are a matched set of Hellhounds. Somehow bodyguards just fit, LOL.

Thank you so very much for reading and especially to the ones who have encouraged me to keep writing, you're the inspiration!

**BlueEyes444 **

I am trying to cut down on abusing my favorite characters and you encourage me to continue? ;) Thank you so much for encouraging me!

**lynneanne **

My daughter cut her foot on some broken glass in the creek this summer, it bled a lot (which freaked me out) but the ER doc said she didn't need stitches. They bandaged up the cuts and she hobbled around for a week. She's a daredevil tomboy; this makes a nail through her shoe and into her foot, burns on her feet from an idiot who poured BBQ ashes in the sandbox at the park, and more broken glass, all in the last three years.

I am so glad that you got into the story enough that you could empathize with them!

You see things in my story that I miss, when you mention them it sets the muse off again, please, please continue!

I don't really want to write anything romantic between them, Marty seems more of a flirt with Kensi than being serious. I see their relationship more like Morgan and Penelope from Criminal Minds.

I hope you liked the way Muhammad 'greets' his friends.

**NcisLAFan**

You're welcome and THANK YOU!

**LostForeverInHisEyes **

If you love Deeks, you will love season 2! I'm so obsessed with him that when it's on, I am glued to the screen. I even make obsessive screencaps of Deeks.

Good call on the owner, she is a character I created five years ago and it's spooky how much she and Hetty have in common. I am tempted to write about them meeting…

Thanks so much for your encouragement, I hope I can keep you interested.

**Skyler1510 **

I hope you like Momma Chang; I've always been rather fond of her myself.

**Velossian**

I really wish there were more Marty stories, I just love him! I've got another Marty fic nibbling at my brain; I hope to start it as soon as I finish this one.

Just to tease you, here is a snippet from my next Marty fanfic:

_I met Jess __Traynor__ when we were seven years old. She was staying with her grandmother in the house on the other side of our back fence. _

_Jess was climbing the tree in her back yard the first time I saw her. She had a frog in the front pocket of her overalls, dirt on her chin and twigs in her hair. I knew right then that if I ever got married; she would be the one. _

Music helps me write, these are the songs on my Marty/Past Presence playlist.

Bar Room Hero by The Dropkick Murphys, Never Surrender by Corey Hart, FRGT/10 by Linkin Park, Right Where I Belong and When I'm Gone by 3 Doors Down, Back Stabbin Betty and Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage the Elephant, Falling by Stained, It's All Over by Three Days Grace, I'm Alive by Disturbed, Tubthumping by Chumbawumba, Come on Get Higher by Matt Nathanson, Whispers In The Dark by Skillet and You're To Blame by MercyMe

Got any recommendations for my next Marty Playlist?


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